


A Necessary End

by IPutTheSassInAssassin



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Father/Son Incest, Guilt, Hostage Situations, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Nightmares, Underage Kissing, kidnap, slow-build, spoilers up to 6.9
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-24 07:10:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6145686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IPutTheSassInAssassin/pseuds/IPutTheSassInAssassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a struggle getting used to life in Alexandria after the night Carl lost his eye. But that'd soon be the least of their worries when innocent, familial love transforms into something deeper and they discover there's more than Wolves and walkers threatening their survival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> This is me (nervously) testing the waters of the ship. Want to gauge the reaction/feedback to this before deciding whether to seriously continue or not. Let me know?

   Rick had never expected the end of the world. Nor did he ever expect to be fighting for his life each and every day while undead corpses took dominion over the earth. The world had completely turned upside down in a matter of days. Nobody ever even saw it coming. How could they? It had started out as a regular, dull morning. Rick was on patrol duty with Shane, as always. Then he'd made one small mistake and got himself shot. Everything changed after that one, single moment.

   Since he'd woken up from the coma, life was suddenly no longer the day-to-day routine of going to work in the afternoon and then relaxing with the family in the evening. The financial worries and arguments with Lori which once tore Rick apart now seemed petty in retrospect. Life was much more difficult now, everything so much more complicated... and even that was an understatement.

   Sometimes Rick wondered if he wasn't actually still in the coma, lying in that hospital room unconscious, trapped in some horrific nightmare. Maybe Lori and Carl were sitting at his side, waiting for him to wake up. He'd hoped that was the case, that maybe when he went to bed for the night, he'd finally wake up and escape this hell.

   Yet every morning he woke up, not under the white, cracked ceiling of the hospital he was expecting, but still stuck in the nightmare. Each time he opened his eyes, the truth set in like a heavy weight; he wasn't dreaming. This was reality now, and no amount of wishing, praying or hopeful thinking would change that. Each day was a struggle for survival and at any moment, everything could fall apart in the blink of an eye. As he was growing up, people had always told him; _“Live like its your last day alive. Always tell people you love them because you never know when a conversation with someone is the last._ ” It only took an apocalypse and the death of his wife to really take that advice seriously.  
  
   Lori's death especially had taken its toll on Rick. Guilt still tore him up, even now, years later. So what if they hadn't exactly had the perfect relationship? He'd loved her, but he'd ruined their final months together holding onto anger, avoiding her. She'd needed him and he hadn't been there for her at all. He hadn't even been there when Judith was born, wasn't there to save Lori or even comfort her like he should have. No, instead it'd been Carl. Forced to kill his own mom at such a young age. That was the worst part.

   For the longest time Rick had considered just giving up, ending it all with one bullet to the head. It'd be so _easy_ , so simple. Painless. Even now he sometimes wondered why he hadn't gone through with it. Then he'd look over at Carl and remember the answer. Carl and Judith; they were his everything, his hope, his anchor in this hellhole. They needed him, they were the reason he kept pushing forward. How could he let them down?

   Alexandria and Jessie had rekindled something in him he hadn't felt since the prison; hope. Hope for a fresh start, a more promising future, for him and his group. A life that was more than just constant fear and fighting. It hadn't taken long at all for Rick to fall for Jessie either. Ron and Sam were already family in his eyes, but the night _it_ happened... when Sam and Jessie were overtaken by the walkers, that hope was ripped from him yet again.

   Alexandria was done. What were they fighting for anyways? What was the point? The world was cruel and merciless. Each time something good happened, something horrific was waiting just around the corner to tear them down again. It was a vicious cycle they just couldn't seem to escape from.

   The only thing to bring him out of that daze was Carl's hushed pleading, his struggles to get out of Jessie's grip. Rick's stomach churned as he realized what he had to do. Bones split and snapped as he started hacking Jessie's arm, her blood splattering all over him as images of her flashed through his mind, tormenting him. Her bright, caring smile. Their first kiss. He forced these thoughts away, focusing on saving Carl. Once again, Carl was his last remaining hope. He'd do anything to keep him safe.  
  
   Even so, when Ron raised his gun and pointed it at Rick, he was tempted to let him do it. Finish him. How ironic that would be, for him to die at the hands of Jessie's son. There was little relief when Michonne killed him, only more devastation at the growing amount of loss in one night. All three of them slain in a matter of minutes... and he hadn't been able to do a single damn thing about it.  
  
   Rick glanced over at Carl to make sure he was alright, and what he saw made his gut wrench. There was blood, so much blood, running down Carl's face. Rick's pulse raced as Carl looked up at him, revealing the bloody mess where his right eye had just been. His voice trembled as he said, “Dad”, and then collapsed.  
  
   Rick had never felt more overwhelming terror and dread in his entire life than in that moment.

   Rick had no idea how long had already passed since that night. Everything was a blur, time unimportant. Right now he was at the boy's bedside, and that was all that mattered. Once they'd retaken Alexandria, he'd planted himself in that chair and stayed there, frozen like a statue, moving only to help change Carl's bandages.

   It'd happened again. Rick had let his guard down for one moment and Carl was shot... _again_. Except this time, Carl wasn't left with a small scar on his abdomen, but a missing eye. He'd pay the price for Rick's mistakes for the rest of his life.

   Just like last time, the incident kept replaying over and over in Rick's head, the guilt eating away at him. If only he'd paid more attention. If only he'd made Carl stay behind with Judith at the church. If only he'd handled Ron better... things would be a lot different. Carl wouldn't be half-blind lying unconscious on a makeshift hospital bed right now. What would Lori say if she were there? Would she be pissed at him, blaming him for this? She wouldn't exactly be wrong.  
  
   Rick knelt forward, heart pounding, when Carl finally began to stir. His eye fluttered before opening fully. Rick watched his brows furrow in confusion as he looked around the room before settling his gaze on Rick, who placed a hand gently over Carl's.

   “Dad?”

   That word tugged at Rick's heart, summoning the image of Carl collapsing, face caked in blood. His voice was even weaker now than it had been then.

   “What happened?” A thousand thoughts were running through Carl's head. At first, his memory was foggy, but everything returned to him bit by bit, like he was experiencing it all over again. Sam crying, getting ripped apart by the walkers. Jessie's anguished screaming, collapsing as the walkers turned on her too. Then Ron aiming his gun at Rick...

   Carl's veins boiled. He should've killed Ron when he had the chance, back during their fight in the garage. It'd crossed his mind then, but he decided to be the good guy, to show mercy. What a mistake. If he'd just killed him... then he wouldn't be missing an eye and Rick wouldn't be looking so damn miserable and guilty right now.

    “You're safe now, Carl. We took back Alexandria.”

    “How?” There'd been so many walkers. They'd been completely surrounded...

    Rick fidgeted, “After you... the group and I went out, cleared all the walkers. Others joined in. Daryl set the lake on fire to distract them as we did it. Saved us.”

    Carl sighed, shaking his head, “Guess I missed all the fun. I'm glad you're okay, Dad.” He wanted to ask more about it, but that could wait. The anguish in Rick's eyes were killing him; Carl wished he had something, _anything_ , to say that would make his dad feel better, but he wasn't feeling all that marvelous at the moment either.  
  
   Rick shook his head, “I'm sorry, Carl.”  
  
   “There's nothing to be sorry for. It wasn't your fault, Dad.”  
  
   Rick said nothing, just looked down at his feet. They could argue about it all day, all year even, but Rick would never believe otherwise. Carl squeezed his hand, trying to comfort him. _It's pathetic,_ Rick thought. _He's the one in the infirmary bed but_ he's _the one_ _comforting_ me _._

   “How are you feeling?” He looked back up at Carl.  
  
   “Like I've been shot in the head.” Carl meant it in good humor, but neither of them laughed. A moment of tense silence passed before the boy asked, “Where's Judith?” Exhaustion laced his voice.

   “She's with Carol. I think she misses her brother.”

   A ghost of a smile tugged at Carl's mouth. It was all he could manage.  
  
   Rick gave him a smile, but it didn't meet his eyes, “You should get some more rest. I'll be here.”  
  
   Carl gave a small nod, and within minutes, fell back to sleep.

    Rick remained planted at his side, still holding the boy's hand, wishing he could undo everything that had happened. Wishing he could give Carl a better life, the one he actually deserved. Now that they had a second chance with Alexandria, he'd give it all he had.

   Denise came by just a bit later, and Rick helped her change Carl's bandages and clean his wound. It was an arduous task, just seeing the damage Rick had caused made his stomach churn every time, but there was no way in hell he wasn't helping. This was his fault, after all.

   Once finished, Denise turned to Rick. She'd noticed the dark rings under his eyes, and that he was _still_ wearing the bloody, ripped clothes from that night. It pained her to see him this torn up.

   “He's safe with me Rick. You don't have to stay here.”

   “I want to be here when he wakes up again. Help any way I can.”

    “You've already helped every way you can. He needs rest now, and so do you. When's the last time you ate anything?”

    Rick couldn't even remember. He was so focused on his son, he'd forgone everything else. Food, sleep, hygiene. None of it mattered right now.  
Denise was stern, “Go eat. Get some sleep. Wash up. Carl's in good hands. He needs you, but he needs you to take care of yourself too.”

    Rick couldn't argue with her logic. If he wanted to help Carl, to protect him, he needed to be in the best shape possible. Denise gave him a warm, encouraging smile as he debated with himself, then stood.

    He took one last, long glance at Carl, kissing his forehead lightly before finally taking his leave, despite how much he wanted to stay.

 

 

 


	2. Feelings

   “You sure you're ready for this?” Denise asked, just finishing up wrapping Carl's fresh bandages. Despite the circumstances, Carl was incredibly lucky. Not only to have survived that kind of gunshot, but to be healing with no complication or infections. Today he was leaving the infirmary, finally going back home to Rick and Judith.

   “Yeah. I'm sick of sitting here doing nothing.” He felt utterly useless here, just staring up at the ceiling day after day wondering what everyone else was doing. Worried that something bad might happen outside and he wouldn't be there to help. Rick had visited him often, but conversation had been strained, both caught up in their own guilt over the other's pain.

    “Nobody's expecting you to do much of anything other than rest, if that's what you're worried about.” Rick chimed in. He was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. At least he was cleaned up and wearing new clothes. The dark circles around his eyes were gone, too, Carl was relieved to see.

   “I want to help.”

   “Rick's right. Even though you're not in here, you still need to take it easy for a while. Get lots of rest.” Denise said.

   Carl sighed. At the very least he'd be leaving this stuffy room finally.

   “Alright. We're done. Just come by once a day and I'll change the bandages for you.”  
  
   “Thank you.” Rick said to her, then turned to Carl, “Ready to go home? Judith's waiting.”

    Carl nodded, then headed over to his father who wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they took their leave. He was relieved to have Carl home again, where he was closer and he could protect him if something happened. Since the night Jessie died, everything in town had remained fairly calm. No more wolves or walkers had broken in to Alexandria. Yet Rick was still on edge, his body still on alert, waiting for the moment when everything would change. Their peace could be shattered at any moment; nobody knew that better than him.  
  
   Carl took in a deep breath as they stepped outside. The air outside was so much fresher than it was in the infirmary, untainted by the smells of medicine or blood.

   As they headed home, Carl caught a glimpse of the new farming area, crops already poking out of the soil. Memories began to resurface; images of the garden they had at the prison, the countless days spent at his father's side tending to the crops, picking tomatoes and peas. Carl's chest tightened with guilt as he remembered how frustrated and angry he'd been towards Rick. For forcing him into a petty task like farming rather than supply runs or defending the group. Look what happened; for all their efforts, they'd lost that garden and everything else when the Governor showed up. He'd blamed his father for that too, for not killing the Governor sooner, for not even searching for him.

   It didn't matter anymore. The prison was long gone, but they had survived, and now they'd discovered somewhere even better. Hopefully Alexandria would last; this place felt more like home than anywhere else ever had.

   But... something was missing.

   “Where's my hat?”

   Rick chuckled, “ _Your_ hat? Thought you said we could share it.”

   “No. I've been shot twice so now I'm pre-”

   He'd tripped on one of the steps leading up to their porch. Luckily, Rick caught him before he could fall.

   “Thanks.” Carl muttered. Rick didn't back away, but kept an arm behind him, just in case. Carl snapped, “I can walk on my own. I lost an eye, not a leg.”

   Rick pursed his lips, then backed off. Carl managed the rest of the way up the steps carefully, chest tight with shame. He didn't mean to snap, but he didn't want to appear weak, to need anyone's help. Especially not in front of Rick.

    Michonne came out then to greet them, Judith in her arms, and gave them a big, warm smile, “Welcome home, Carl.”

    Carl forced himself to smile back, grabbing Judith's tiny, delicate fingers. He made funny faces and raspberries until Judith giggled. It felt so good to hear that sound; he'd really missed her while in the infirmary. Hell, he'd missed _everyone_.

   Michonne spoke up as they all went inside, “I made dinner for us. Potatoes and beans.”  
  
   “You didn't have to do that.” Rick said.

   “Why not? Thought we should celebrate Carl's return.”  
  
   “I was only gone a few days, and I was just down the street. Not out at a war.” He fidgeted, uncomfortable with all the attention on him. All he wanted to do was forget what happened as soon as possible, forget about how weak and different he was now.

   “You were battling your own personal war.” Michonne said, earning an eye roll from Carl.  
  
   As they went inside, they were bombarded with the smells of the food, making Carl's stomach growl. They all sat around the dining table, Rick taking Judith on to his lap. Unable to resist Judith's puppy-eyes as she watched them eat, he ended up feeding her some spoonfuls of potatoes.

   As Carl was reaching for his glass of water, he ended up knocking it over by accident, the water pouring out all over the table.

   “Damn-it” he muttered, quickly grabbing the glass to set it upright again.

   Rick and Michonne exchanged a weary glance before eyeing Carl. Rick spoke up, “Are you alright?”  
  
   Carl sighed, “Yeah, I'm fine. I'll-”  
  
   “I'll get you a refill.” Michonne cut in, standing and taking his glass to the kitchen.

   Carl turned back to Rick, who was still eyeing him, “Dad, really. I'm fine.”  
   
   “If you need anything, you can let me know.”  
  
   Carl heaved a heavy sigh. So much for forgetting how different he was. He hadn't even thought about how his impaired vision would effect even the simplest tasks. This was going to take some getting used to.  
  
   Michonne returned with Carl's refilled glass of water and a rag to dry the table. This time he reached for his cup slowly, and managed to take a drink without spilling it again. The remainder of their meal was finished in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Rick kept sparing concerned glances at Carl, and so did Michonne. They were both thinking the same things, but kept quiet for Carl's sake.

* * *

 

   “I don't understand why you still like coming out here so much.” Enid said, sitting beside Carl. They were back in their usual spot out in the woods, sitting under one of the more sizable oak trees. Despite the changes Alexandria had experienced in the last few weeks, these woods had remained completely unchanged.

   “It's peaceful out here, when there's no walkers around.” Carl mumbled, not bothering to look up from his comic book. He'd already read it at least a dozen times, but there wasn't exactly much else for him to do anyway.

  “But it's safer inside the walls.”

   Carl sighed, “You can go back, if you want.”

  “Come with me.”

   He ignored her. All he wanted was some peace and quiet. Some solitude from the others, just for a little while.

   “What's gotten into you? Ever since your... you've changed.”  
   
   Why did she have to bring that up? Carl scoffed, “Go home.”  
  
   Enid huffed, then stormed off in the direction of Alexandria.

    Finally, he was alone. Part of him missed Enid's company, the sense of protection an extra person provided, but he fought that. Why should he be afraid now when he wasn't before? He just had to be more careful now.  
  
   Enid was wrong. They'd _both_ changed. She felt too safe behind the walls now, depending on them, like everyone else. Everyone was striving for a sense of normalcy, but Carl knew he could never feel that again. Enid and the group had grown optimistic about Alexandria, but him? He could _hope_ they were right, that the town would last, but hope was a lot different than belief.

   Being out in the woods provided a sanctuary from the group. Hard to imagine that just weeks ago he felt like one of them, like he belonged, like he was family, but now he was just an outsider, the runt of the pack. Nobody dared talk about it, but he could see it in the looks, the pitying smiles they gave him, especially from Enid. They all tried to hide it, to be courteous, but in a way that was worse than the looks themselves. He'd fought for so long to prove his independence, his strength, to gain their respect. Wanting to convince them he could protect himself, protect them. He wasn't a kid anymore and he wasn't weak. Now?

   They once again felt the need to protect him, like he'd somehow reverted back to the small child he was at the beginning of the apocalypse. He wasn't allowed on runs, to fight walkers, or even help mend the walls. _It's too dangerous,_ Rick answered every time he'd asked. Carl despised it, despised even looking at himself in the mirror, for the reminders the bandages presented. He hated feeling like he was 10 all over again, hated losing his sense of strength and independence. Hated feeling so different and weak compared to every one else. Hated being alienated from his own damn family.  
  
   He sighed, stuffing the comic book back into his backpack, unable to focus on it anymore. Instead, he laid his head back against the tree trunk and simply relaxed, taking in the tranquility of the moment.

   After a while, he too returned to Alexandria. The town was quiet today, still overcast with the spell of solemnity that had fallen upon it after the night they were overrun. Maggie and Glenn were tending to the crops, and gave him small smiles as he passed by, as per usual. Enid was nowhere to be seen. She was probably still irritated at him, so he decided he'd just go home and take Judith off Carol's hands for a while.

   Carl halted suddenly. There was only one good thing to come out of Carl's loss; his hearing had drastically improved to make up for his weakness. Which was helpful, because more often than not, you heard the walkers before you saw them. His amplified hearing was picking up on moaning, which he assumed meant only thing; walkers had gotten in again. How? They'd repaired the walls!

   He followed the noise, trying to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible. It was easy enough to accomplish now after so many years of practice. The closer he got to the noise, the less and less it sounded like walkers. Then he realized why.

   He'd found Aaron and Eric pressed up against the wall of a house, grabbing at each other, kissing passionately. No doubt snuck away from their patrol duties to snatch a moment of indulgence. They were too engulfed in each other to notice Carl, who quickly turned back the way he'd come, cheeks flushed with embarrassment to have caught them. What would he have done if they'd seen him?

   The image of them stuck with him. Aaron's hands tugging at Eric's hair, pulling him closer. Carl just couldn't get it out of his head as he went home. He hadn't thought about such things in so long. Survival and taking care of Judith had preoccupied him. Now, with this moment of calm, loneliness tugged at him, a hollowness spreading throughout his chest. He didn't have anyone the way Aaron and Eric had each other. Enid had been a very real possibility, and he'd had his fair share of fantasies about her before, but now? Aaron and Eric interested him much more.

   Carl still hadn't even had his first kiss. What would that be like? Would he ever even get that chance? Would anyone even like him that way now with his injury, his ugly, messed up face? Who did _he_ even like enough to want that with?

   He wasn't very close with anyone any more other than Rick, Michonne and Enid, but Enid was fading away. There was a deep respect and care for Michonne, but not in any romantic way, he just couldn't see it.

   By dinner time, Carl was still contemplating it as he took his seat at the table. He watched Rick feed Judith, holding her in his lap protectively. Taking care of Judith was the only time Carl ever saw Rick give a genuine smile nowadays. Carl just wished he could see that happiness in Rick more often. Right now, watching them, Carl couldn't help but notice that Rick _was_ pretty attractive... and that dangerous train of thought inevitably lead to Carl imaging his first kiss with Rick, of all people. Rick pressing him up against the wall, kissing his neck, hands exploring him.

   Carl tore his gaze away from the pair in front of him, fighting the blush that threatened to spread across his face. He was shocked at himself, shocked to suddenly learn that he was attracted to men, but most surprisingly his _father_ of all people.

   “You alright?” Rick asked, pulling Carl from his thoughts. 

   When Carl looked up, the man was watching him, face serious and concerned.

   “Yeah, just... long day.”   
  
   In a way, it made perfect sense. He was closer to Rick than anyone else in the world. Rick loved him more than anything, even now with his injury. Their bond was unbreakable and beyond words. How could he fuck that up by having these thoughts, these feelings? Carl forced them down, hoping they'd just go away if he ignored them.

   Yet, when he lay down for the night after putting Judith to bed, his mind kept wandering back to Rick, no matter what Carl tried to think about. Back to his lips, his voice, the sense of love and protection Carl felt whenever he was beside him. This was going to be difficult.

 

 


	3. Gone

“Hey.” Michonne said, dropping on the couch beside Rick. He'd just gotten home, relaxing after a long day of fence-mending. They'd made tremendous progress already, and were planning on starting the expansion of the walls soon.

“Hey.”

“I'm going on a run to town tomorrow for supplies. You coming?”

“What are we going for?” Rick rubbed his forehead. He didn't exactly like the idea of leaving so soon after Carl's recovery, but he knew it was needed. Supplies were _always_ needed.

“Medical supplies to replenish the infirmary. Food. Anything useful we can find.”

“Alright.”

“Can I come?” Carl chimed in, coming out from behind the corner, Judith in his arms. Michonne said nothing, but shrugged her shoulders, looking to Rick.

“I need you here to watch Judith.”

Carl sighed, “Dad. Let me help. Carol can watch Judith.”

“You heard Denise, you need to take it easy, Carl.”

“Dad!” Carl whined. Judith began to fuss in his arms.

“Rick, maybe it'd be good for him.” Michonne cut in. She'd heard the pair have this exact same argument many times over the past few days over supply runs, patrol shifts and various other duties Carl wanted to help with. If she didn't help the issue, they'd do nothing but get further aggravated with each other.

“I already made my decision.” Rick said firmly.

“Carl, let me talk to him for a minute alone.”

Michonne gave Carl a wink before he nodded and retreated, taking Judith back to her crib. Michonne turned back to Rick, who glared at her, his arms crossed. How could she want Carl to come? He'd _just_ gotten out of the infirmary just a couple of weeks ago.

“I think if you let him come along, it'll help boost his confidence. Make him feel stronger. Normal.” She spoke softly, hoping Carl wouldn't overhear.

“Now I know you saw what happened at the table the other day.”

“It was his first day on his feet since what happened.” She hated bringing this up, “He had to get used to his new... vision. It hasn't happened again since. It was just a... a miscalculation”

“And if he _miscalculates_ a walker? He'll get himself killed.” Rick snapped.

“We'll be there with him, we'll have him covered.”

“I can't risk losing him”

For a minute, there was a tense silence between them. After some thought, Michonne softly replied, “He'll need to fight eventually, you know that, Rick. We won't be there forever to protect him. He just needs to get re-used to things with just...”

Rick sighed, lips pursed. Of course she was right, but it didn't make him feel better at all. After coming so close to losing the boy, he didn't want to experience that despair ever again. He _needed_ Carl... Which is why the boy needed to be able to defend himself.

Michonne continued, “Let him help us clear houses. Get him back into the hang of things. It'll pull him out of the funk he's in. Rick, he _needs_ this.”

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fine. Okay. He'll come.”

  
\---  
A nearby pharmacy was the first stop on the run, but to no one's surprise, it was already emptied of anything useful. After that, the trio refocused their efforts on an abandoned neighborhood just a few miles outside of Alexandria. There weren't too many walkers wandering about that day, and for that they were extremely grateful. Yet looting houses wasn't proving too beneficial either. Hours in, they'd collected only a couple of meager canned vegetables and a box of band-aids. By now, the sun was beginning to set, their only light source quickly disappearing.

“Why don't we split up? Cover more houses faster that way.” Carl suggested.

“No. Stay with us.”

“Rick, it's just one house. He knows what to do. We'll be nearby if anything happens.” Michonne argued.

Rick sighed. Maybe she was right, he was being over-protective. Carl had cleared many houses on his own before, this was nothing new for him, “Okay. You clear this one.” He nodded toward the closest house, “We'll take the one next door. We meet out here in ten minutes.”

Carl nodded, and with gun in hand, ran up the steps. Rick was tempted to follow him, to be sure, but Michonne pulled him away. _It's only one house_ , Rick reminded himself. _Carl can handle clearing just one house._

Rick and Michonne made quick work of clearing the house next door. Luckily there'd only been one walker in it, which Michonne beheaded. They found a few cans of peaches and vegetable soup in the cabinet, and a bottle of aspirin in the bathroom. It wasn't much, but it was something.

“Hey, Rick?”

Rick turned, “Yeah?”

Michonne leaned against the door frame, “Look, I know you want to protect him. I do too. But you can't govern every single thing he does. He's not a little kid anymore.”

“I know that. I just... every time I let my guard down, someone gets hurt.”

“What happened wasn't your fault. You've gotta stop blaming yourself for everything.”

Rick sighed, he hated these constant reminders. It didn't matter how many times they told him otherwise, he knew the fault was his, “Come on. Let's go see what he found.”

 

\----  
Having his gun back in his hands as he entered the house felt _right_. Natural. Carl had missed this, had despised being restrained to menial tasks and babysitting. Now he finally felt more useful again. Important.

The first walker was in the kitchen, turning and staggering over to Carl almost as soon as he'd passed through the doorway. Carl aimed, took a shot... and missed, the bullet blowing off a chunk of the walker's shoulder.

“Shit!” Carl spat, quickly backing up. He hadn't realized how difficult aiming would be with his left eye instead of his right. The walker hastened its steps, unfazed by the bullet.

Carl took another shot and finally, the walker dropped. Taking a few deep breaths, Carl recollected his nerves and continued on. _It's a good thing Dad wasn't here to see that._

The next walker was in the bedroom, but Carl managed to kill this one without issue. With the house finally cleared, Carl put the gun back in the holster at his hip, and returned to the kitchen. Rummaging through the cabinets, he sighed. Nothing. The bathroom was next. He pointedly avoided looking in the mirror above the sink. As he pulled open a cabinet door, a rat suddenly squealed and darted past him, making him jolt. _Good job, Carl,_ he thought, _not afraid of walkers but terrified by a rat._

From the other room, Carl head a door open and shut again, followed by heavy footsteps. _Must be Rick or Michonne looking for me_. It hadn't been ten minutes already, had it?

“Dad?” Carl called out. No answer.

He returned to the living room to see what they wanted, but found neither of them. Heart beginning to race, he reached for his gun, but was suddenly tackled from behind. He struggled, punching and trying to push away his attacker's arms, but the man who held him was too strong, pinning him against the wall. His hair was dark, but clean, his facial hair trimmed. _He's got a camp_ , Carl inferred, _he's not alone._ The attacker grinned sadistically, watching Carl's increased struggles.

Confirming Carl's thoughts, another man joined them, and Carl knew he was done for. In a last-ditch effort, he struggled more, opened his mouth to shout for help, but was hit against the head with the barrel of his attacker's gun. Searing pain overwhelmed him as his vision faded to black.

  
\----

“Carl?” Rick called out as he walked into the abandoned living room, Michonne right behind him. They had waited for Carl outside longer than ten minutes, but the boy hadn't shown up.

“Carl!” Rick shouted louder, gun withdrawn as he passed through each room. Why wasn't the boy responding? Had something happened? He didn't hear any walkers, and the only two in the house were both dead already.

“Rick...” Michonne said gently from behind him.

When he turned to her, his breath hitched. She was holding up Carl's hat. Why would he leave that? This wasn't like him.

“No... no. no. Carl!” Rick continued searching, heart racing.

Michonne was saying something, but he was too panicked to hear her. He searched every room several times, but found no sign of Carl.

They both froze as an engine started, followed by the screeching of tires. Rick sprinted for the door, gun pointed at the car, _their car,_ already speeding away. With Michonne tailing him, Rick followed it, shooting for the tires, but missing each time. The distance between them stretched out too quickly, Rick couldn't catch up no matter how hard he pushed himself.

The car sped off, eventually turning out of sight far down the road.

Rick continued running even after it was long gone, until his legs, too exhausted physically to carry onward, buckled and he collapsed onto the pavement. There was that despair again, burning within him. Carl was gone, along with their car and supplies too.

“Rick...” Panted Michonne, who finally caught up to him.

“I left him for one minute and he was taken.”

Michonne sighed, sitting down beside him. This was the last thing they'd needed. Carl had just gone through such turmoil with his eye, and now he'd been kidnapped? This was her fault. She'd convinced Rick to let the boy come, and to let them split up. Trembling, she placed Carl's hat into Rick's lap, “He's gonna be fine, Rick. He's strong, he can take care of himself.”

Rick ran his fingers slowly along the brim of the hat. Over the years, it'd grown torn and dirty, but now it was the last trace of his son he had. He focused on the feel of it to keep himself from completely breaking down. His voice was distant, cold as he said, “We have to find him. Get him back.”

Michonne wanted desperately to believe that was possible. That they could find Carl and he'd be perfectly safe, he'd be okay, and they'd be able to simply bring him home. But things in this world were never that easy, and they had no way of finding that car, or its occupants. She despised herself as she said, “Yes. We'll come back and look around later but right now we need to get back to Alexandria and get some help. Get a car. Backup.”

Rick nodded, only half listening to what Michonne was saying, and let her help him to his feet. He took a long look at the hat before he put it on, remembering when he'd first given it to Carl. It was astounding, that after all they'd been through, the hat had survived with them.

A thousand thoughts were running through his mind, none of them good. He had no idea what to do now other than trust Michonne, and follow her lead.

 


	4. Negan

   The first thing that registered in Carl's mind was the cold, slimy floor against his cheek. When he tried to move, he found his wrists were bound together with rope. Same with his ankles. Struggling against the restraints, Carl reached down to his holster to grab his knife... except it wasn't there, and neither was his gun. Sighing, he forced himself upright, scooting backwards until his back struck the wall behind him.

   The room was lit only by dim rays of sunlight filtering through a single window far beyond his reach. Even if he could get to it, it was too tiny for him to crawl through. Inside the room, the air was stale, tainted with a musky stench Carl couldn't quite pinpoint a source to. From somewhere beyond the walls, he could hear a faint _drip, drip_ of water in a steady pattern.

_Where am I? A basement? A cellar?What are they going to do with me?_

   He wanted to scream, but instead he forced himself to take several long, deep breaths. Right now, he needed to keep calm and come up with a solid plan, find something to cut the ropes. Then he would plan his escape.

   Yet there was nothing in here but him. His kidnappers had taken all his weapons and supplies, even his hat was missing. There was only one exit; a door, which sat just across from him, but he was certain it'd be locked.

   He sat there silently, listening to the _drip, drip_ of water as he tried to figure out what to do. How long had he been here already? How far was this place from Alexandria? Who were the men who took him, and why? For several hours Carl just sat there, these questions repeating in his head. As time went on, his thoughts became more panicky. What if they just left him in here to starve to death? What if they'd found Alexandria already?

 

   Eventually, a man came in, alone, locking the door behind him. Carl immediately recognized him as the same man who'd tackled him and knocked him out back at the house during the run. Short, dark hair. Leather jacket. He gave Carl that same, sadistic smile he'd donned before, which unsettled him to his core. On the man's hip were a knife and pistol, which Carl eyed. If he could just steal one of those from him... he'd have a chance.

   The man knelt down in front of Carl, just a few feet away, out of reach, and hard, brown eyes locked with fearful blue ones.

   “Sorry about having to do this to you, kid. I'm Negan. I need some information from you.” His voice was firm, deep and dishonest.

   Carl glared at him, not buying his masquerade of sympathy for a single moment.

   “I'm looking for a certain man. Maybe you know him? He's got a crossbow. White fucking redneck trash, you know the type.”

   Carl still said nothing, but a flash of recognition in his eyes gave away everything Negan needed to know.

   “Listen, kid. I can't let you go until you tell me where I can find this asshole. Just tell me where you call home and I'll bring you back, alright?”

   “I don't know anybody like that.” Carl blurted out, unsure what else to say.

   Negan smirked, “I _really_ don't fucking like it when people lie to me. Look, I get it. You're scared. So I'll give you that one.”

   “I'm not lying.” Carl snapped, eyeing him. Challenging him, despite the growing pit of anxiety in his gut.

   With no warning, Negan punched him square in the face, then pulled the boy's hair, bringing their faces closer together, giving Carl not even a second to recover from the blow. Carl groaned in pain. His lip was busted, a single drop of blood running down his chin.

   “Don't fucking test me, kid. I can be real kind or I can be an asshole, either way I _will_ get what I want.”

   After another moment, Negan released his grip on Carl and left the room, leaving Carl alone to wonder why Negan wanted Daryl so desperately, and how did he even know about him? What else did these people know already?

 

    Another man, this one Carl didn't recognize, left a plate of cold baked beans for him later on, saying nothing. Carl didn't touch it, not hungry in the least bit. The painkillers Denise had given him for his wound were starting to wear off, his eye socket and lip beginning to throb in a dull pain.

   Thankfully, he was left alone for the remainder of the night, the room slipping into a thick, tangible darkness once the sun fully set. It was impossible to sleep with the anxiety and the pain in his face steadily intensifying. Carl had given up trying to figure out an escape plan hours ago, his wrists raw and bloody from his attempts at undoing the ropes binding them. Even if he could get out of the ropes, he was weaponless and outnumbered. For now he just let his mind wander back to Alexandria, back to Judith and Rick.

   His chest burned at the thought of Rick. He'd never missed the man as much as he did now. His face, his voice. How he'd hug him and grip the back of his neck to sooth him. If only Rick was here now, to embrace him and make him forget this nightmare.

   Was Rick angry with him for getting taken? Did they assume him dead? Rick, no doubt, was in hysterics, which Carl had to admit, warmed him just a little bit. But even so, Carl could never tell Negan where Alexandria was; he couldn't endanger the group like that, even if it meant losing his life. Nothing stung more than the realization that he may never see Rick or Judith again.  
  
   Carl wasn't aware of falling asleep, but he could remember his dream vividly when he woke early the following morning. Rick had found them, tailed by Michonne, Daryl and Glenn, breaking into this place and easily overtaking his captors, killing Negan and all his allies. Then Rick had pulled him into a tight hug, voice cracking as he whispered, “I love you”. They'd kissed, a passionate kiss fueled with the fear of nearly losing one another, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to them.

   Carl only got a scarce, few precious moments to bask in the afterglow the dream left him with before Negan barged into the room, slaughtering all of Carl's hopes and replacing them with fresh terror.

   It was the same questions, “Where is the man with the crossbow? Where are you guys hiding? How many of you are there?” to which Carl just lied or plain ignored.

   “Alright.” Negan finally sighed, shaking his head, “You left me no choice, kid.”

   A hand wrapped tightly around Carl's throat. Carl fought back, unable to breathe, desperately clawing at Negan's wrists but Negan was too strong. It was pathetic how easily this one man could dominate and control him completely. _I really am weak._

   Negan punched Carl, over and over, each harder than the last. Twice. Three times. Four times before he let go and finally backed off, but he didn't leave. Carl gagged as he finally took a deep breath, spitting a mouthful of dark blood onto the floor. His face was a mess, his lip and nose both busted, bleeding. His good eye was black, the other stinging. All he felt was complete, blinding agony.

   Negan smirked down at him, “That man you were with, the redneck's partner. He's the leader of your group, right? You're his kid, aren't you?”

   Carl's heart pounded at the mention of Rick. _Please be okay, Dad._

   “I'll give you one more chance. I just want to talk with the man, really. I want justice for the people the redneck asshole's slaughtered. I have to look out for my people, just like your father does for his, I'm sure. You understand that, right?”

   Carl wasn't giving in. Even if he had to die here, he'd never give away the location of his family to this monster.

   “Still not going to talk. I see.” Negan nodded.

   Carl just glared at him, imagining all the ways he could kill this bastard if only he were freed. Take the gun and simply shoot him in the head, or take the knife and stab him to death. Carl found the slow death of the knife to be more satisfying to imagine.

   “Hey, I never asked. What happened to your eye?”

   Images and feelings from that night flashed before him; desperate attempts to calm Sam from his panic attack, the devastation when the walkers took hold of him. Jessie's agony-laced sobs as she too was taken. Then fear, as Ron raised the gun to shoot Rick, stopped only when Michonne's sword impaled his chest, the gun swinging sideways, and then... pain. So much pain.

   Foggy, incoherent flashes of dreams before waking up to Rick beside him, holding his hand, watching him with a smile that said _“I'm so glad you're okay”_ but eyes that said _“This is all my fault. You're never going to be okay.”_ He hated that look in Rick's eyes, wanted to erase the guilt and find a way to show Rick that it was okay, he didn't blame him, just loved him, but how could he do that if he was so weak and pathetic that he'd gotten himself kidnapped?

   “May I see?” Negan asked, leaning forward, raising his arm.

  Carl managed to smack Negan's hand away, which only angered him further. Carl's face stung as Negan slapped him, the sound echoing off the walls as Negan grabbed hold of the bandages and ripped them away with no hesitation or ounce of gentleness. Carl hissed at the sudden pain, felt a drop of liquid ooze down his cheek. Crimson smeared across his hand when he wiped it away.

   Negan looked at the wound for a long, silent moment, eyes wide. Then he _laughed,_ a loud, cynical laugh that bounced off the walls and made Carl's head spin.

   “You poor son of a _bitch_! You're fucking hideous!” Negan withdrew the knife at his side.

   Carl's entire body tensed, “Don't!”

   Negan grabbed Carl's wrists with his free hand, pinning them down, “I gave you a hundred fucking chances to tell me what I wanted. This could've been easy, shithead, but you decided you want it the fucking hard way.” He raised the knife to Carl's wound, pressing the blade into the sensitive flesh.

   The pain was agonizing. Carl squirmed, began screaming.

   Negan held the knife there, buried in the wound, “You take a few hours to rethink your choices, kid. Do you even realize how fucking _easy_ it'd be to kill you right now? Just an inch further and you'd just be another fucking rotten sack of meat.”

   To prove his resolve, Negan nicked Carl's wound once with the knife before removing it. Carl shook, the fresh incision burning as the blood dripped down his cheek and splattered onto the floor. Negan chuckled, shaking his head before finally taking his leave.

   Carl crawled to the corner of the room, trying to calm his racing heart and labored breathing. _They're never going to find me here. Negan's going to kill me, and they'll never even know what happened to me.  
_

   He wrapped his arms tightly around his trembling body as he lost control, the tears finally spilling over, drenching his sleeves.

 _I'll never see Dad again. I'll never even get to see Judith grow up._  


 


	5. Reminders

   Guilt never really goes away. Instead, it just seems to pile up, growing and festering deep inside. Every so often you could forget it for a while, especially when you were fighting for your life, but it always finds its way back, sooner or later. Everything always catches up eventually.

   Throughout the apocalypse, of all the people he'd killed, all the things he'd done, Sophia was one of the people Rick felt most guilty about. Since the fall of the prison, he'd been too busy with survival to dwell on her for too long, but now with Carl missing, she'd returned to the forefront of his mind. When he closed his eyes, he could still see her so vividly; the fear on her face as he lead the walkers away, leaving her all alone in the woods. She'd trusted him to protect her. Hell, they _all_ had. When she'd gone missing, everyone was so confident they'd find her...

   Now Carl was missing too. Rick was supposed to protect Carl, his own _son_ , and he'd failed him too. It seemed like he couldn't _stop_ failing people, especially Carl. How were they going to find him? Would they ever? If they did, would Carl be a walker, just like Sophia had been? Was the Universe taking Carl away as some sort of retribution for everything Rick had done, the people he'd killed?  
  
   For the first time in months, Rick dreamt of Hershel's farm. Even Shane was there, which was a torturous reminder in and of itself, and when he busted open the barn of walkers, everything unfolded the way it really had. All except the very last moment. When Sophia had come out, this time it wasn't Sophia, but Carl instead, staggering towards Rick, growling. Clothes torn, soaked in blood. His one eye void of life, full only with a primal hunger. Skin cold... dead.

   Rick raised the gun, fully intending to shoot, but... he couldn't. Not Carl. Nobody else dared intervene either, all watching Rick with stoic looks that screamed “ _You deserve this_ ”. Of course he did. That's why he didn't fight back as Carl latched onto him, his arm stinging painfully as the boy bit into him, fresh blood painting the grass red. _I do deserve this, but you didn't, Carl..._

* * *

   Unable to sleep after the nightmare jolted him awake, Rick took up an early perimeter watch, attempting to focus his crazed thoughts on the job at hand. There were a couple walkers wandering about, and he tried his best to hide his panic at the sight of them, refusing to put them down until he had seen their faces, to make sure they weren't Carl. None of them were, of course.  
  
   Rick would remain there on watch until the sun finally rose. After that, he met up with Daryl and Michonne at the gate as they'd agreed on, silently packing a couple bags into the trunk of a car before setting off.

   The first thing the trio did was return to the neighborhood they'd been clearing the day before. Back to the house Carl had been tasked with searching, and began combing the building inch by inch, looking for any clues, evidence that might lead them to the kidnappers. They found nothing. After that, they followed the road the kidnapper went, thoroughly searching each and every building within a 5-mile radius. While they did find a few cans of soup and some boxes of ammunition, they found nothing that would lead them to Carl.

   By the end of the day, both Michonne and Daryl had lost hope. Every moment filled Michonne with more and more guilt at having brought Carl along on that run, and Daryl couldn't help but be reminded of Beth's abduction. He'd followed that car for miles before he'd had to face the facts, collapsing at the fork in the road. The pain of his failurestill overwhelmed him, and he and Beth hadn't even been that close. He couldn't even begin to imagine the turmoil Rick was in, losing his own flesh and blood. Daryl felt guilty that there was nothing he could do to alleviate the man's pain.

   Daryl and Michonne tagged behind, keeping their concerns to themselves, giving Rick until sunset even though they were now going in endless circles.

   Hours passed by and they were losing the light, no closer to finding Carl than they had been that morning. With a nod of agreement from Michonne, Daryl finally sped up to catch up to Rick, before stepping in front of him, making him halt. Rick actually _glared_ at him, betrayal evident in his face, looking as though he would push him away, but he didn't. The anger wasn't for Daryl, and he knew that.

   “Carl's gonna be okay. He's a tough kid. But there's no way for us to find them. They could be _anywhere_ by now, man.”

   Rick fidgeted, then averted his gaze to the ground, “I can't fail him like I did Sophia.” he uttered, completely broken.

   Daryl inwardly flinched at the reminder of Sophia, remembering the days spent tracking her in the woods. Finding the doll, falling and getting pierced in the side by his own arrow. He still bore the scar from that little escapade.

   “What happened to Sophia's on all of us. But this is different. Look, man, I get it. When those assholes took Beth... I didn't wanna give up neither. But they were all the way in _Atlanta_. There's no way I coulda found 'em on my own, and no way we're gonna find these guys neither. I know you wanna wait, to look for 'em, but Alexandria needs us. Needs _you_.”

  
   Since then, Rick went alone, leaving before sunrise every day, before anyone else had woken and could try to argue with him. Daryl had valid points, and the chances of finding Carl were slim to none, but Rick would never be able to live with himself if he simply gave up. Carl was his _son,_ the last blood family he had. He couldn't just leave him out there. So each day Rick would return to where he'd left Carl alone and repeat the search. He prayed that one day Carl would find his way back and be sitting there waiting for him... but he never was.

   On the third day of the search, as Rick opened the front door to the house yet again, he immediately froze in the doorway. There was a form, a person, standing in the hallway, unmoving. Quietly shutting the door behind himself, Rick took a deep breath as he stepped forward.

   He could tell by the body this was a teenage boy wearing a white T-shirt and black jeans, black hair reaching down to his shoulders. The skin was off-hue and a low growling met Rick's ears and made his heart pound. His fingers trembled as he raised the gun, aimed it at the back of the boy's head and whispered in a shaky voice, “Carl?”  
  
   Slowly, the boy turned, and for the longest, most agonizing moment of his life, Rick had truly believed it was Carl, taken as a walker straight out of his nightmare. But it wasn't him. The nose and eyes were wrong, the body too skinny, too short. A moment of hesitation allowed the walker to reach Rick, even grab him. Just a second before he could bite down, Rick shot him, and the walker collapsed, nearly dragging Rick down in the process.

   It took a minute for Rick to compose himself, repeating, _“It wasn't him. Carl's fine.”_ The walker had landed face-down, and from behind he once again looked just like Carl. It was unnerving to say the least. Rick ended up retrieving a sheet from the bedroom and covering the body with it before taking a seat on the couch.

   Rick's confidence was slipping. They were never going to find him. He shouldn't have let Michonne convince him to let Carl come along. Shouldn't have left him alone, just like he shouldn't have left Sophia alone. This was yet another mistake to add to the ever-growing list. He was a failure, a pathetic excuse of a father. _Please just give me the chance to make it right._

   Rick stayed out there until the last hint of sunlight had fallen behind the treeline, finally heading back to Alexandria in a foggy state of mind.

* * *

   Just a few hours earlier, in a house just across the street, two men stood, analyzing the old, crinkled map spread out on the table between them. The older of the pair pointed at a particular neighborhood, “We haven't checked there yet. They could be there.”

  “In a regular ol' neighborhood? No way. Gotta be held up somewhere more secure.”

  “We've already checked all the damn 'secure' places. Shopping centers, hotels, plantations!”

   “Wait, shut up... you hear that?”   
  
   There was the tell-tale crunch of tires on gravel from outside. A moment later, an engine cut off, and a car door opened and closed, followed by footsteps.

   Both men ran to the windows, crouching underneath them, guns withdrawn. They watched as the driver of the car, a man, look around, as if calculating something, before entering the nearest house.

   The man was clean, hair trimmed, obviously from a camp. The older man recognized him, but from where exactly he couldn't pinpoint at first.

   “We should take him!” The younger man whispered.

   “No.” He snapped. This guy could be from the very group they were looking for... then the reason why the man seemed so familiar hit him, “You know that kid Negan's got locked up? That's his dad. He was there with the kid the day we took him.”

   His partner's eyes grew wide, “We should do something. This is the perfect chance to-”  
  
   “Shut up. Just wait. Let's follow him back to his camp, find out once and for all where these assholes are locked up. Then we'll go back and see what Negan's got planned for 'em.”

 

   Which is exactly what they did. Rick, lost in his hazy state of self-pity completely missed the extra sets of footsteps behind him, and the car that tailed him just beyond the horizon all the way back to Alexandria.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two guys at the end who find Rick are just random Saviors. Not meant to be anybody specific :)


	6. Release

   Carl winced as the door creaked open, the sound shattering the heavy silence. Negan came in first, followed by two other men this time. Fear twisted Carl's gut, as he wondered what sick torture Negan had in mind for the day. His face was still aching from the last time.

   One of the men walked over to Carl and knelt down in front of him. Carl tensed, preparing for whatever was about to happen as the man reached forward. The man took out a knife, and Carl was shocked when he cut the rope from his ankles, but then tightened the ropes binding his wrists. Carl was yanked to his feet, his knees and hands trembling. _Where are they taking me? Somewhere worse?_

   “You fucking lucked out, kid! My men here caught your father this morning snooping around that neighborhood again. Followed him back home. We found Alexandria.”

   Carl tensed, but said nothing. _What have they done? Please let them be okay..._

   Negan smirked, “So Alexandria _is_ the place. My men here are gonna take you back home and have a little chat with your father.”

   Carl was blinded suddenly, as a musky pillowcase was placed over his head and tied. Within moments he was feeling lightheaded.

   Negan leaned in close, “It's a shame we didn't get more time together... but I'll be seeing you again _real_ soon anyways.”

    Carl was pushed forward then and lead down a long hallway, Negan and his men right beside him. He considered fighting them, attempting an escape, but knew it was futile. Even if he could get his hands untied and the pillowcase off his head, he couldn't fight all three of them at once. Especially not without his weapons.

   “Once you've got the redneck, use him as an example. Make sure all those other pricks know the rules of our deal.” Negan spoke up.

 _Deal? What deal?_ Carl wondered. _Dad would never make a deal with these people._

   “And the kid?”

   “Make sure he gets to his father okay, don't hurt him. Kid's way too fucking interesting.”

   A door squeaked as it was opened ahead of them, and Carl was pushed through it. For the first time in days, he felt the warmth of sunlight on his skin even though he still couldn't see a damned thing. His captors pushed him a bit further still before a car door was opened and he was shoved into the backseat.

   “And make sure Rick knows how fucking-”

   Carl never got to hear the rest of that sentence, for someone hit him in the back of the head with the handle of a gun, and he fell into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

  
   Rick was at the infirmary, Judith on his lap while he talked with Denise.

   “No sign of him?”

   He shook his head.

   Denise hesitated, debated on saying something, then decided against it. She was concerned about Carl's wound. Even though he'd been healing well so far, if he didn't get it cleaned and the bandages changed soon, he risked infection, and they didn't have the resources to deal with something like that.

   She didn't want to worry Rick any more than he already was though. That haunted, fearful look on his face had returned, the same one he'd had bringing Carl to the infirmary after the gunshot. It unnerved her.

   Instead, Denise said, “I'm sure he's fine, Rick.”

   Rick scoffed, “That's what we all said about Sophia.”

   Denise made a quick run-through in her mind of everyone in Alexandria, but came up with nothing. She shook her head, “Who's Sophia?”

   Before Rick could answer, the door burst open, Glen and Aaron rushing in. Panting, Glen said, “There's a group outside the main gate. Five men. They have guns... and Carl.”

 


	7. First Confrontation

    Rick, Glen, Daryl and Michonne stood at the gates, guns aimed at the group of five Saviors before them. Carl was in front of them, hands tied behind his back . His bandages were gone and drops of fresh blood slid down his face from the open wound. Rick's heart pounded, veins burning at the sight. What the hell had these bastards done to him? There was no way in hell he was going to let them get away with this.

   “What the hell did you do to my son?” Rick shouted, fighting the urge to just start shooting then and there. It was too risky. He had to think of everyone in the group, not just Carl.

   The supposed leader of the group spoke up, “We just had a little _chat,_ is all.”  
  
   “That's him!” Another man suddenly shouted from the back of their group, pointing at Daryl. Daryl trained his crossbow at him.

   “Who are you people?”

   The leader scoffed, “Your saviors. Your pal over there.” He nodded towards Daryl, “Killed some of our friends. All we want is justice. Here's a deal, you give us him and we'll give you your boy back. Sounds like a fair trade, don't you think?”

    Daryl met Rick's gaze. Rick couldn't just hand him over. Alexandria needed him; he was one of their strongest members. But what could they do? That was Rick's  _son_ out there, and if they didn't comply, Carl would be the first to die. A bloodbath would surely follow.

    “It's a trick.” Daryl whispered, “You really think they'll jus-'”

    The leader of the group suddenly clicked the safety off his gun and pointed it directly against the back of Carl's head, “No talking. Just give us what we want, and we'll be on our way.”

    Rick knew Daryl was probably right. How could they trust these guys? Rick turned back to Carl, who met his eyes, the fear and dread evident on his face. The boy took a breath and then spoke up, “Don't do it, Dad. Alexandria needs him more than me. He's more important.”

    “Shut up, kid.”

    Rick forced himself to stay calm.

    “You got five seconds before I blow this shithead's brains out. Five... four.”  
  
    Rick panicked. Carl tensed, dread filling his gut, but he kept still.   
  
    “Three.”  
  
    “Fine. You want me? You got me.” Daryl shouted, voice cutting through the tension as he set down his crossbow.  
  
    “What are you doing?” Rick hissed.

    “Saving your boy.” Daryl snapped. _I couldn't save Beth, but at least I can save Carl._

     Rick didn't like this at all, but he couldn't come up with a way out in time. Daryl had made his choice, and there was no stopping him once he'd set his mind on something. Resigned, Rick followed Daryl out the gate, his gun aimed at the leader of the strangers who held Carl at gunpoint. A grin spread across the leader's face as Daryl came closer, and then the gun was aimed at Daryl's head instead of Carl's.  
  
    As Daryl and Rick neared the group, Rick took Carl by the arms, and pulled him back slowly towards the gate, gun still raised.

   “Now, was that so hard?”

   The rest of the group watched tensely from the gates, waiting for some sign or instruction from Rick for what to do.

   “What are you going to do with him?” Rick shouted, already knowing the answer, but needing to buy time. _Think... think..._ _we_ _have to do something. What can_ _we_ _do?_

   “Avenge our comrades. Any last words hillbilly?”

    Suddenly, gunfire erupted from the treeline, riddling four of the saviors with an endless rain of bullets. Blood painted the grass as the lifeless corpses fell, leaving only the leader standing.  
  
   Daryl took the split-second of distraction to knock the leader's arm aside and take his gun, immediately turning it on his attacker.

   The man sighed, then smirked and shook his head, looking around at his fallen allies, “I've gotta give you assholes credit. You guys got some _serious_ guts.”

    “Get him secured.” Rick snapped, holstering his gun. Abraham, Carol and Aaron stepped out of cover from the trees, all bearing guns. Glenn brought out ropes to tie the attacker's hands.

    “You're really going to regret this. Negan will _not_ be happy.” The man growled, glaring directly at Rick as he was tied and taken away.

   “We'll see.” Rick muttered. Now relatively safe, Rick turned to Carl, cut apart the wire that bound him, and pulled him in to a tight hug, “I was so worried.”   
The boy was thinner under his grasp than he remembered. Did they not even feed him? _At least he's home now. Safe._

    Carl just clung to him tighter, overwhelmed with relief to be back in his father's arms. He'd thought for sure this would be the end, that he'd die at Negan's hand without ever being able to see Rick again. He buried his face against his father's chest, taking in the smell of Rick's cologne, allowing it to fill him and comfort him. It was such a refreshing scent after days of that musky room.

    Daryl came up to them, still eyeing their new prisoner as he was taken into Alexandria.

   “What was that about? How'd he know you?” Rick asked.

    "Abraham, Sasha and I were stopped on the road a few weeks back by a group of bikers. Tried to steal our stuff. Said it belonged to 'Negan'.” He turned to Rick, “I blew 'em up.”

   “Who the hell is _Negan_?”

    Carl shuddered, remembering the knife pressed into his wound, Negan's chuckle echoing in his ears, “I met him.” They both turned to Carl, tense as he continued, “He beat me. Did this.” he pointed to his reopened wound, “Wanted to know where Alexandria was. I didn't tell them, Dad, I swear.”

    As Rick listened to the boy's story, he was able to piece the rest of it himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, “They saw me out there looking for you, didn't they? Followed me back.”

    Carl nodded.  _Dad was out there looking for me?_ His heart warmed a little at that.

    Rick sighed. Daryl asked, “You know where they're at?”

    Carl shook his head, “They blindfolded me and knocked me out to and from the place. Kept me locked in this empty room.”

    Daryl looked at Rick, “What do we do? These people are dangerous. They make Terminus look like pussies, and now they know where we _live_.”

    “That's why we captured the asshole.” Abraham cut in, joining them.

    “This was _your_ plan?” Rick asked.

     Abraham nodded, “While you all ran around like chickens without heads, pissing your pants, I gathered the guns and manpower to take these sons of bitches out. Kept this one alive so we could question him.”  
  
    “Thank you.” Rick said, overwhelmed with gratitude. They may have had their issues in the past, but he was beyond relieved to have the man there now, with them. Rick didn't even want to consider what may have happened, the people they may have lost, without Abraham's quick thinking.

* * *

    Once the prisoner was secured, locked in the cell Morgan had built, Rick took Carl to the infirmary. As soon as they stepped through the door, Denise heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of Carl. Immediately, she had him sit on the bed, handing Judith back to her father while she gathered fresh gauze and peroxide.   
Carl was excited to see Judith again, still happy and healthy as always.

    “How is it feeling?” Denise asked Carl, taking a close look at his wound.  
  
    “It burns. A lot.”

    “This is what I was afraid of.” Denise sighed heavily, pouring peroxide on to a rag.

    Anxious, Carl asked, “What? What's wrong?”

    Denise pressed the rag to Carl's wound. It stung, but Carl held still, knuckles white as he tightened his grip on the sheets. Denise cleaned the wound and began wrapping the gauze, “It's good we got you back as soon as we did. You've got an infection. Hopefully it'll go away on its own now, we just have to be very thorough with cleaning it every day. You tell me if it gets any worse, okay?”

    Carl nodded. It still hurt, but not nearly as agonizing as it was during his captivity with Negan. At least he could start healing now, instead of having that bastard tamper with it, making it worse. Truth be told, the infection didn't surprise him at all, but he was confident Denise would be able to look after it. He did feel guilty about using up even more of their medical supplies though.  
  
    Once finished, Denise left the room, giving Rick and Carl a minute alone.   
  
    Carl looked up at Judith, smiling at him from where she sat in Rick's arms.   
  
   “Can I hold her?”  
  
    Rick smirked, “Of course. She's missed her brother.”

    Carl smiled as he pulled Judith into his lap. Her eyes twinkled as she clung to him. Rick sat beside them, happy that his family was together again, all safe and okay.

    "I'm sorry, Dad. I was wrong.” Carl started suddenly.

   “About what?”

   “I do need you. I'm weak, I'm...” Carl shook his head, eyes on Judith, avoiding Rick.

   “No you're not. I've been overprotective. I'm proud of you Carl. You're a strong, brave man.”

   Carl sighed, “I couldn't even fight off those men, Dad. I'm just a burden on you... on everyone.”

    “No you're not. What happened doesn't make you weak. Look at all we've been through, Carl. No weak person could've done what we... what _you_... have done.” Rick pulled Carl into a hug, “I love you, Carl.”

    “Love you too, Dad.”

 

 


	8. Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I have returned after 4677586578 thousand months of being away. I apologize for that, but the season 7 premiere has got me amped to start writing again and I am determined to finish this darn thing now!!!

   Carl froze in the doorway when he saw the figure standing in the middle of the living room. The man's back was turned to him, but he could still recognize him by the clothes, the confident way he stood. _How did he get here? How the hell is this possible?_

   “What are you doing here?” Carl tried to sound imposing, but his voice came out breathy. Scared.

   Negan turned, “Oh, Carl. Nice to see you again, kid.”

   Carl's throat felt tight. Judith was in the monster's arms, eyes puffy and red from crying. Negan was cradling her, gently rocking her as she continued to sob.

   “You know, I always wanted a kid. Don't know about raising one in _this_ world, though. Rick sure has balls... or _had_ balls.”

   “What'd you do to my dad?” Carl was eyeing his baby sister, mind racing, calculating any possible way to get her away from him.  
  
   “Oh...” Negan stepped aside, and Carl's gaze immediately fell on his dad. Rick was laying on the couch behind Negan, his chest covered in dark, fresh blood which ran down his arm, dripping onto the carpet. He was motionless. “We had some _disagreements_. He just couldn't fuckin' follow the rules. But you, Carl, you're a good boy, right?”  
  
   Carl's body trembled, his chest tightening. His mind was reeling, heart racing, vision going blurry as tears spilled down his cheeks. He opened his mouth-

* * *

   “Carl!” Someone was shouting. Hands were clutching his shoulders, shaking him.

   “No! Get aw-” Carl shouted, then stilled when he realized it was just Rick holding him, not Negan. Carl took several deep breaths, trying to comprehend what had just happened, “Dad...”  
  
   “Are you okay?” Rick asked, still holding him, eyes locked with Carl's.

    Carl trembled, shaking his head, “Negan... he had Judith and you were...” He didn't want to say it. He didn't have to. Rick understood, and pulled Carl close as he began to cry. Carl's hands latched onto him desperately, craving the comfort of physical contact, the reassurance that he was, in fact, alive.  
  
   “I'm right here, Carl. I always will be.” Rick whispered as he ran his fingers through the boy's hair. Carl let the man's voice mollify him. As time passed, Carl managed to calm down, his breathing coming more evenly.  
  
   Rick gently pulled away, “You should sleep.”

   Carl grabbed him before he could get up, “C...can you stay? … please?”

   Rick thought for a moment, then said, “Sure.”  
  
   Carl scooted aside to give the man space to lay beside him.  
  
   “We're gonna be okay.” Rick said once he was settled. It was a tight fit with them both on a twin bed, but not uncomfortable.

   Carl looked at him, “How do you know?”  
  
   “This place. These people. They're strong. _We're_ _all_ strong... together. We've gotten through worse, we can get through _anything_.”

    The confidence in Rick's voiced soothed Carl's nerves. That's what was so special about Rick, why he was such a perfect leader. He had that way of calming people down, giving them strength and hope, even if he didn't have it himself. Carl curled up against the man's chest, basking in his scent. Rick awkwardly wrapped an arm around the boy, and soon they fell asleep like that.

* * *

 ****Sunlight bathed the room in a warm glow as the sun slowly rose a few hours later. The light crept further and further up the bed before finally hitting Carl's face, rousing him from a deep, peaceful sleep. He stretched a little before opening his eyes.  
  
    In his hysterics from the nightmare, it hadn't even registered last night that Rick had been completely shirtless, wearing only a pair of jeans. Now here he was, right beside him, sleeping soundly, and still completely shirtless. Carl couldn't help but run his gaze over Rick's chest, his stomach, even the muscles in his arms.

 _Damn..._  
  
    Carl wanted to reach out, to feel the man's skin, to run a finger over the scar on his abdomen, but ultimately decided against it. _This is my own father for fuck's sake..._  
Instead, Carl forced himself out of bed, heading to the other bedroom where Judith's crib was. As he quietly peered over it, Judith smiled up at him.

    “Hey Judy.” He smiled back, picking her up.

    Carl made his way to the kitchen with Judith on his hip. Rick was already there, preparing a bottle for Judith. Carl was a little disappointed to see he was now wearing a shirt, but perhaps that was for the best. _I gotta kill these feelings._

    Rick turned and his face lit up with a smile when he saw the two of them. His family. His _everything_. He held out his arms and Carl handed him Judith. Rick sat at the table and started feeding Judith.

   Carl made himself a small bowl of cereal before taking a seat across from them. Before he'd even taken the first bite, he blurted out the question that'd been on his mind all morning, “You gonna interrogate the prisoner today?”

   Rick's smile slowly faded at that, the reminder that life was not all glorious, not all fond moments with his kids, but they were in the middle of the end of the world with a the threat of war looming over them like a stubborn rain cloud. That prisoner was their biggest chance to avoid that and keep everyone safe. He said, “Yes. Gonna see what I can learn from him.”

   “I want to come.” Carl wanted to know as much about the threat as possible. He wanted to help protect Alexandria and his family.  
Rick wanted nothing more than to say no. Yet, at the same time, he didn't want to push away his son with a petty argument after just getting him back. Besides, the prisoner was secure, and it'd still be two against one if things went south. Rick gave Carl a stern look, “Fine. But you stand back and we do things my way.”

    Carl nodded, and went back to eating his stale cereal.  


* * *

    The prisoner said nothing as the pair walked into the room. He was bound just as Carl had been, and now sat in the corner, simply watching them with a spiteful glare. An ironic role reversal which filled Carl with a sense of pride in his father and everyone in Alexandria.

   “What's your name?” Rick asked first.

   “Deven.” The man said simply.

   Rick nodded, “What do you guys want with Daryl?”

   “That piece of shit killed a bunch of our people. _Good_ people.”

   Carl huffed. _Good people_. What a joke.

   “How many of you are there?”

   Deven shook his head with a grin, “You'll find out soon enough.”

    Rick clenched his jaw, “What the hell does that mean?”

    “You think Negan's going to let you get away with killing so many of us?” Deven laughed, “You're about to get your shit handed to you.”

     Carl felt sick listening to him. Rick sighed heavily, “Tell us where Negan is and I _might_ consider letting _you_ live.”  
  
    “Hmmm..... no.” Deven leapt up suddenly, somehow having untied his ropes. He attacked Rick first, punching him and shoving him aside. Carl pulled out his gun, but Deven smacked it away, the gun flying from Carl's grasp, landing way out of reach. Deven shoved Carl against the wall.

    Before Carl could react, Rick had already pulled Deven off him, shoving him to the ground. He punched the man several times in the face, until he was thoroughly knocked out, face covered in fresh black and blue bruises.

    Knuckles bloody, Rick wiped the sweat from his brow as he turned back to Carl, “Are you alright?”  
  
    Carl nodded, his mind reeling. Distracted, he picked up his gun and re-holstered it at his side. Rick had reacted so damn _quickly_ , protecting what was his. Why did he find that so damn _hot_? Rick crouched, gathered the rope and re-tied Deven's wrists, this time much more tightly. Rick stood, wrapped an arm around Carl, “Come on, Let's go.”

    “What about Deven? He told us _nothing!_ ” Carl said, trying to think of anything other then the protective arm around him. The thought crossed his mind to shrug it away, to prove he was too strong to need 'comfort', but he didn't. He felt safe in Rick's arms, and he wanted the physical contact more than he liked to admit.  
  
    “We'll try again tomorrow.”  


* * *

  
    There was a knock at the door.

    “Come in.” Negan called.

    Dwight entered, shutting the door behind him, “They haven't come back yet. No word from 'em either.”

    Negan snapped, “It's been _three days_. What the hell are those useless fucks doing? Having a fucking vacation with the bastards?”  
  
    “We think they may have killed Deven and the group.”  
  
   Negan seethed, “Get the men ready. Guess _I_ have to go in and show these fuckers who's the boss around here, since the rest of you incompetent fucks don't know what the fuck you're doing.”

 

 


	9. Out in the open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you to everyone still reading this and anyone leaving kudos. I'm so grateful for the support and love all of you. Don't be afraid to leave comments, they always make my day!

   “How does it feel?” Denise asked as Carl took a seat on the infirmary bed.

   “Still hurts.” he mumbled.

   Carl hissed in pain as Denise began slowly peeling away the bandages. It hadn't hurt this bad since the first week after being shot. _That can't be good._ A knot was already starting to form in the pit of his stomach. He watched Denise's expression carefully.

   Denise frowned as she looked over the wound. Sighing, she began cleaning it, gentler than usual. Even the slightest touch sent sparks of searing pain through Carl's head. He forced himself not to squirm or groan, fingers digging into the edge of the bed so hard his knuckles turned white. He hoped she wouldn't notice.

   “What's wrong?” Carl asked, even though he had a pretty good idea of the answer. He had to hear it. Confirm it.

   “The infection's getting worse. We don't have many antibiotics left to fight it. I'll give you what we have, and _maybe_ it'll be enough, but...” Denise shook her head.

   “It can't be that bad, can it?”  
  
   Denise met his gaze, and spoke with a seriousness he'd never heard from her before, “If it gets much worse, it could kill you. We may need someone to go on a supply run soon. ”

  
    As Carl headed home, he decided not to tell Rick about the infection. He didn't want the man to worry even more than he already did. Besides, the antibiotics should fight it and make it go away within a couple days. At least, that was the best case scenario. Worst case... he wouldn't think about it unless it came to that.

* * *

   The following day started out just like the previous three, Rick and Carl having a short, lighthearted breakfast before heading out to interrogate the prisoner while Michonne looked after Judith. So far, they still knew nothing more than they had the first day. It seemed like a complete waste of time to Carl, not to mention a waste of precious food to keep the man alive.   
  
   There had been no sign of Negan or his men yet, but everyone stayed on alert, just in case. The most important thing for now was getting information from their prisoner, Deven. Once they had that, they could plan their next step.  
  
   “Where are the others?” Rick pressed for the hundredth time. Carl stood beside him, arms crossed. The pain in his wound was a constant throb now, which only fueled the boy's growing irritation.

   Deven just shrugged, as always, “Don't know.”

   Carl, fed up with the whole ordeal, suddenly grabbed the man by his collar and punched him in the face. To Rick's surprise, blood began to drip from the prisoner's nose a moment later. The boy was much stronger than he'd thought.

   “Carl!” Rick hissed, but did nothing to intervene. He waited to see how this would play out, whatever Carl had in mind.  
  
   Carl punched Deven a second time, “Tell us what you know, asshole!”  
  
   The man just laughed. His amusement was cut short by a painful yelp when Carl kicked him in the ribs, as hard as he possibly could. Searing pain shot throughout Deven's rib-cage, forcing him to curl in on himself, clutching his chest. He groaned miserably. More blood dripped on to the cement when he opened his mouth to mutter something neither of the Grimes could make out.

   “What was that?”Carl hissed.

   “The sanctuary. 'bout... 60 miles west. But it doesn't matter anyway.”  
  
   “Why?” Rick chimed in, stepping up beside Carl, placing a hand on the boy's back. Carl's mind reeled at the touch, completely distracting him.

   Deven chuckled to himself, “You're stupid if you think you can take 'em on. You're weak. You and your pathetic little son are both already dead.” He lunged after Carl.   
  
   A second later, Deven's limp, headless body collapsed on the floor, blood and brain matter in a pool on the cement. The gunshot rang in Carl's ear for one long minute before he could hear anything again.

   Rick holstered his gun and rounded on his son, “Don't you _ever_ do that again. You need to leave these things to _me_.”

   “But I got him to tell us what we needed to know!” Carl whined.  
  
   “You could've been hurt, Carl! It's not worth it.”

   Carl didn't want to get swept up in another petty argument, but this was just ridiculous. Why was Rick so damn angry? He'd just helped him get the information they needed! He was an adult for Christ's sake! When would Rick see him that way?

   On the other hand, Carl knew Rick just wanted to keep him safe. The man was just worried about his son. Despite how much Rick tended to over-do that protectiveness at times, the sentiment was quite touching.

   “You don't need to worry about me, Dad. I'm not a little kid.” Carl said softly.  
  
   Rick sighed, leaned close to him and put a hand on his shoulder, “I know you're not, but I still worry. I don't ever want you getting hurt again...” and there it was, plain as day. That damn guilt and shame in his eyes that overshadowed everything else ever since Carl lost his eye. The real reason Rick was so damn overprotective and angry. When would Rick realize that wasn't his fault? When would he stop torturing himself?

   Carl wanted to erase that pain, take away all Rick's unnecessary guilt, but what could he possibly say? Rick never listened. He always blamed himself first when anyone in the group was hurt, especially when it was Carl, that's just who he was. Carl tried to think of anything he could say or do to fix this. How could he show him how he really felt?   
  
   His gaze fell away from Rick's, not wanting to see the shame and guilt anymore. He looked at the man's lips instead. If only he could just kiss him. Maybe that would show him, finally, make him feel better.  
  
   A split second was all it took for Carl to make his decision. He didn't allow himself another moment to stop and think. He was too frustrated with Rick's guilt mixed with all his own pent up feelings for the man. It was about damn time to just get it all out in the open, to stop hiding and get rid of all the tension.

   Before he could lose his courage, Carl grabbed on to Rick, pulled him close and kissed him. _I love you. You don't need to torture yourself over this._  
  
   Every time Carl had fantasized about this moment, his first kiss with Rick, the man had always pulled him into an embrace and kissed him back with just as much reciprocated, pent up passion. It didn't exactly go that way in reality. As quickly as he'd made the choice, he found himself shoved backward again. Rick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring at Carl, “What the hell has gotten into you?” __  
  
   Carl gulped, staring at the floor as his cheeks flushed bright red. He'd been so drawn in by the moment and all his pent up frustration, thinking a kiss could finally resolve the tension, but he hadn't thought this through at all. Of course Rick would never accept him in that way, what was he thinking? He'd just made everything a whole lot worse.

   “Carl.”

   The boy didn't dare look up. He didn't want to see the disgust and disappointment he was certain lined Rick's face. Carl let out a broken, “What?”

   Rick sighed. What the hell had just happened? He pinched the bridge of his nose while he let his mind run a moment, all the pieces beginning to click into place; the blush on Carl's cheeks. Why Carl was acting so strange lately. Why he'd been extra clingy and protective. Carl had a crush... on _him_.

   “You...” Rick rubbed the back of his neck, having absolutely no idea how to deal with this new situation. He could kill walkers with ease, slaughter people without an ounce of mercy or regret, but an unreciprocated crush? How do you solve that without straining the relationship? Rick said, softly, “We can't be like that, Carl. We're family. I love you but...”

   “I know.”

   “This... feeling you have towards me? It's a phase. It'll pass.” He hoped. _What if it didn't? What would happen?_

   “Yeah.” Carl sighed. Unable to bear the awkward situation any longer, he quickly exited the room without so much as a glance at his father.

   He'd been telling himself all along that the crush would simply go away, but it refused to. It was stubborn, controlling him like a puppet. It made his heart race every time Rick was near, made his lips and fingers yearn for Rick. It set the butterflies in his stomach crazy every time Rick smiled at him. It drove his mind wild with all kinds of crazy ideas at night, even filled his dreams with the most blissful images and sensations that made his body ache for attention.   
  
   Even so, Rick was his father. A part of him had known all along that Rick would never, ever feel the same way. Now they could never be the same. Their bond would be awkward if not broken now, all because he couldn't control himself. He couldn't just let things be the way they were.

_Great job,_ Carl thought. _You just ruined your relationship with the most important person in your life._

   Maybe in the end, it would be better this way. Rick was right, they were family and this was beyond taboo. Maybe now Rick would be disgusted with him and quit talking to him. They'd drift apart and Carl would no longer be a burden, some weak, disfigured kid to be protected and watched at all times.

 


	10. Denial

   Rick glanced over yet again at the empty chair at the dining table where Carl used to sit each and every morning while Rick fed Judith her breakfast. Now it remained untouched, and Carl's absence left the whole scene feeling... empty. _He must still be embarrassed by what happened in the cell yesterday._ Rick sighed, and tried to let it go. Carl would come around when he was ready.  
  
   Carl didn't show up at all that day, and Rick went to bed with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Had Carl been hurt? Was he just staying at someone else's house for the time being to avoid him? Rick couldn't exactly blame the boy if it were the latter, he'd probably do the same in his situation. Still, Rick lay there on his bed, unable to sleep, waiting for the telltale opening and closing of the front door to assure him that Carl was finally home and safe. It never happened, and Rick laid awake for several hours in the dark just staring up at the ceiling.

 ****His mind eventually began to wander, returning to the day he'd gotten Carl back from the kidnappers. Relief had washed over him as they hugged, finally reunited. Then there was the night he held Carl in his arms after the nightmare, whispering to him and running his fingers through the boy's hair to calm him down. It had felt so natural, so.... _right_. Even sleeping beside the boy for the night had felt right. Having the boy so close by had actually relaxed him, giving him the most peaceful sleep he'd had in years.

   Then, of course, eventually his mind returned to the kiss itself, quick and clumsy as it was... he had to admit, it had been a little endearing. Even after he'd pushed the boy away, the kiss had left his body filled with electricity. He hadn't kissed anyone since Jessie, hadn't even spared a thought about it. Every day was spent focused on Carl, providing for him and protecting him.  
  
   It's been so long since Rick had been with anyone romantically. Even Jessie hadn't lasted that long and they hadn't gotten any further than their first kiss. Carl, however, had been at his side since the very beginning. Before that, even. They'd gone through the most horrific shit together. Despite a few hiccups along the way, their bond had remained, lending both of them strength and hope even in the most dismal times.  
  
   Rick had nothing but unconditional love for Carl and pride for the boy's courage and strength which endured everything they'd gone through. Carl had grown to be such an amazing young man; Rick couldn't have asked for a more perfect son. Even the boy's looks were the perfect combination of Rick and Lori's features, which was more alluring to Rick then he cared to admit.

    Rick couldn't deny that the kiss had sparked something deep inside him. A primal desire for closeness and intimacy. The fact that it had been with someone he already loved so much, just made that craving even stronger. So... what would have happened if he'd let the kiss go further? What if he had simply let it happen, giving into his primal instinct?  
  
    That's exactly what his dreams presented to him with when he finally fell asleep. He was back in that cold, empty cell, alone with Carl. Carl turned and kissed him, and this time he didn't push the boy away. Instead, he simply let the scene unfold. His fingers tangled in the boy's hair as he pulled him close, the boy's small whimpers and moans overriding all logical thought, making him shudder and slip his tongue eagerly into Carl's mouth.

  
    Those intoxicating sounds still filled Rick's mind when he woke up the following morning, sporting an erection that refused to go away until he divulged in his sick fantasies under the warm spray of the shower.  
   
    As he took himself in hand and began to stroke, he forced himself to think of anyone but Carl. First he thought of Lori, then Jessie, and even Shane from their 'experiments' during their academy days, but no matter who he tried to fantasize about, the image always morphed back to Carl.

    Images from the dream just kept creeping back into Rick's mind, no matter how much he tried to fight it. He vividly remembered the way Carl's fingers felt tugging at his shirt, his hair. The sweet taste of the boy's lips still lingered on his own, the taste of his tongue still in his mouth.  
  
    It didn't take long for Rick to lose the war with his own mind. He eventually caved in to his dark desire, imagining himself pushing Carl against the wall of the cell. Once again enveloped with Carl's desperate moans as he kissed along the boy's neck, biting and sucking on the sensitive flesh.  
  
    Carl was putty in his arms, reacting to every touch, every kiss. Everything about the boy was beautiful and seductive, even the flush on his cheeks, the glaze in his eyes.  
     
    Carl's hands fumbled with Rick's belt as he pleaded with a breathy voice, “Please, Daddy...”  
  
    Rick completely came undone at those words, letting out a long, deep moan as his orgasm washed over him. It took a few moments for Rick's mind to clear again and let him escape the fantasy. His chest tightened with shame when he looked down at his own mess on the floor, the sick evidence that cemented the truth he'd tried so hard to deny; he was attracted to his own son. He vowed to himself never to act on those feelings, only to keep them limited to his dreams and fantasies. Carl was still family after, all, no matter how much he may want him.  
  
    Carl didn't show up for breakfast that day either. Not any day for that entire week, actually. Rick kept stopping by the boy's bedroom intending to talk to him, but Carl was never there. The bed was made and his shoes were gone. Rick had no choice but give the boy his space and continue helping out around Alexandria, including the planning of what to do about Negan. Carl would get over his crush sooner or later and come home. Then everything could go back to normal and they could be a regular family again.

    One day Rick spotted Carl walking down the street beside Enid. Enid was talking, but Carl had this emotionless, hard look set on his face as if he wasn't interested or listening at all to whatever it was Enid was saying. Rick was relieved to see the boy was okay, but still felt jealousy tug at his chest and tried to shove it down. He waved at them, but Carl just stared at the ground and completely ignored him as they walked faster. Rick was surprised by how much that simple gesture stung.  
**  
**

* * *

    Rick was sitting on the porch, taking advantage of the brisk, calm evening. With so much work to be done around Alexandria each day, it was a rare opportunity to just get to sit and relax. Yet right now, this moment brought Rick no tranquility. His mind was too consumed with worry over Carl and the need to find him and keep him close. How could he protect him from so far away? Where was he? When would he come home?

    Rick sighed. It'd been way too long. They needed to deal with what happened in the cell, needed to deal with the crush, needed to talk through all of it and find a way past it. They needed to be a family again. They couldn't avoid the issue forever; stalling the inevitable was pointless and tedious.

 _If he doesn't come home within the hour, I'll go looking for him myself. Physically drag his ass home if I have to._  
  
   “Rick!” Denise's panicked voice ripped him from his thoughts.

    On instinct, Rick shot to his feet, hand on his gun, “What? What's going on?”  
  
    Denise raced up the steps and took a moment to catch her breath. Panting, she said, “You need to go on a run. Carl's infection's getting worse and we don't have any more antibiotics to fight it.”  
  
   “Infection? Why didn't he- where is he?”

   “In the infirmary. Rick-”

   Without another word, he was already headed over there. Why hadn't Carl told him? How bad had it gotten already? Screw awkward encounters and inappropriate feelings, this was so much bigger than their petty argument. Rick's mind was already reeling. What if he lost Carl? The last thing Carl would remember about his Dad would be being shoved away by him. That thought tore Rick up inside. _I shouldn't have been so harsh. I should've confronted him earlier, forced him to talk to me. We should've dealt with the problem when it started._

   Denise caught up to him, talking fast, “There's a boutique that has a small pharmacy in it just off the highway. I saw it on the way to Alexandria. It's our best chance of finding the antibiotics we need.”

   Only half-listening to Denise, Rick shoved open the door to the infirmary and immediately went to the beside where Carl lay, asleep. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the boy. Carl was unconscious, hair stuck to his face with sweat, his breaths deep and labored. Rick put a hand to his son's forehead, and was alarmed at how hot he was.

   Denise came up beside Rick and whispered, “I'll keep him safe until you get back, but you need to go _now_.”  
  
   Rick wanted to stay with Carl. To watch over him and be there for him when he awoke. To wipe the hair from his face and tell him how sorry he was, how much he loved him. Yet he knew he couldn't. He had to go find those antibiotics and bring them back so Carl could heal.  
  
   Rick leaned over slowly, kissing the boy's forehead and whispering, “I'll be back soon.”

 


	11. Antibiotics

   When the front door slammed shut, Michonne knew something was wrong. The terror in Rick's eyes as he plodded into the living room only confirmed that suspicion. Rick had been acting distant and strangely for the whole week, never giving any clues into what was going on in his head, but tonight something had definitely changed for the worse.  
  
  She stopped Rick in his tracks, waiting for some explanation.

   “I... I have to go. Carl... Carl's in the infirmary.” Rick's voice was hoarse.  
  
   Michonne's chest suddenly felt very tight, “What happened?”  
  
   Rick let out a shaky sigh, “Infection. There's no antibiotics left here so... I'm going on a run.”  
  
   “I'm coming with.”

   “No, I need you here. To watch Judith.” Rick argued with little conviction.

   “Carol or Denise can take her. I have to help. This is my fault anyways.” Nothing was going to change her mind on this. She went to the closet and grabbed a couple of empty backpacks saved just for supply runs.

   “How?” Rick asked, catching the backpack she threw at him.  
  
   “I'm the one who convinced you to let him come with us.”

   “I should've protected him in the first place. I'm his father.”   
  
   Michonne turned back to him and snapped, “Don't you _dare_ blame yourself for this, Rick.”

   “You're doing the same thing.”

   Michonne sighed, her expression softening, “We do this together, for Carl. When we come back, we stop this whole blaming thing. Both of us. Deal?”  
  
   Rick looked at her for a long moment before giving a small nod.   
   
  “We should try to sleep. We'll leave in the morning just before sunrise.”

   “Yeah.” Rick agreed, despite knowing damn well he wouldn't be able to sleep. He wanted to leave right then and there, but she was right. They needed to be well rested when they left, just in case they ran into any trouble on the outside.  
  
   On the way back to his own bedroom, Rick stopped by Carl's, hesitating in the doorway. The room was dark, everything still unchanged. Carl's absence left a cold, hollow feeling in Rick's chest that he just couldn't shake. His mind wandered back to the night they'd slept beside each other after the boy's nightmare, and he wished they could be doing that again. He wished he could just pull the boy close and apologize for everything. _Later. When he's better. Right now I have to focus on getting those antibiotics._  
  
   Just as expected, neither Michonne or Rick managed to get a wink of sleep. Eventually they gave up the useless endeavor and set to packing the car with some food and water, as well as the empty backpacks. When they finally set off the next morning, the first glimpses of sunlight were just barely peeking over the treeline.

   The drive was long and dismal, Rick at the wheel. There was none of the usual upbeat music blasting which Rick liked to sing along to, and the heavy silence just emphasized the gravity of the whole situation. Michonne watched Rick from the corner of her eye, noting the tension in his posture, the impatient tapping of his fingers and the constant fidgeting. His uneasiness and impatience were contagious.  
  
   Michonne put a hand on his at one point, intending to provide some comfort, but he just pulled his hand away from her and kept his focus planted on the road ahead. She tried to think of something, anything to say to ease the tension, but knew the only thing that would really help was getting those antibiotics and returning home. So instead of saying anything at all, she turned around and looked out the window, watching the steady rise of the sun in silence.  
  
   They reached the shopping center a few minutes later. The whole area seemed completely untouched, abandoned even by the walkers. Even the windows to the shops were all covered in a thick coat of dust.  
  
   Rick parked the car right outside the boutique. He sighed and shut off the engine, “I hope she was right about this place.” It was the first thing he'd said since they'd left.

   “I'm sure she was. It's gonna be okay.” Michonne said with a small smile.

   Rick said nothing in response, just opened his door and got out, heading to the boutique without even waiting for Michonne.  
  
   Gun in hand, Rick pulled open the door of the shop and knocked on the door frame a few times, waiting a minute to see if any walkers were drawn out by the noise. None came. The pair then slowly made their way inside, shining flashlights into the thick darkness down each isle.

   The store was filled with racks of clothing, walls lined with glass cases showing off expensive jewelry and fine china. Some of the cases had been smashed, the jewelry missing. Other than that, nothing else seemed to be missing or even touched. _Maybe we'll be lucky after all._

   When Rick's eyes landed on the pharmacy window toward the back of the store, he rushed over to it. _Please let the antibiotics still be here._ His attention was so focused on unlocking and opening the small window to the pharmacy that he completely missed the walker stumbling toward him from behind.  
  
   After a little tampering with the latch, Rick finally got the pharmacy window to slide open, but was greeted by two walkers on the other side. They growled and reached out to him, and he jumped backward, bumping right into the walker behind him. It latched onto him, snarling as it moved in for the kill.  
  
   Rick shoved the dead man away, holding him just barely out of reach with one arm. His other hand fumbled for his knife – and dropped it.   
  
_Shit!_  
  
  The walker's head suddenly went flying as Michonne's sword sliced through it's neck with one clean swoop. Rick winced as it's blood splattered onto his face and he let the headless corpse drop with a loud thump. He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his sleeve before picking up his knife.

   Michonne gave him a sideways look, “What's going on with you, Rick?” It was rare for him to be so careless when clearing a location. Even when in an emergency.

   He ignored her question, instead gestured toward the pharmacy, “Let's get this over with.”   
  
   They quickly cleared the two walkers with their knives before sliding over the counter. A joint sigh of relief was heaved as their flashlights landed on the shelves. The antibiotics were all still there.  
  
   After grabbing the backpacks from their car, they set to work filling them with antibiotics, painkillers and anything else they could find in the back of the pharmacy. They took only the most important stuff, focusing on the brands Denise had written down on a scrap of paper for them beforehand.  
  
   Once the bags were filled to the brim, they locked the pharmacy back up on their way out. Now they knew where to go when they needed more, as long as nobody else found this place before then.

   Rick popped open the trunk of their car and tossed the backpacks inside. _Please be alright, Carl. I'll be home real soon..._  
  
  “Rick.” Michonne said.

   He didn't answer her, instead slamming the trunk of the car shut and turning away.

   “Rick!” Michonne said again, moving to block him from getting in the car, “What's wrong with you Rick?”

   “We need to get back to Carl.”   
  
   “I know. He'll be okay but we need to be _alive_ to get back to him. You could've died in there Rick! What's distracting you so much?”   
  
   Rick leaned against the car, arms crossed, “It's the infection. I can't lo-”

   “You been acting weird even _before_ the infection. For the past week you two been avoiding each other like the black plague and I wanna know why.”  
  
    Rick just stared at the ground. Why couldn't she accept his answer and move on? Why did she have to see through him? He couldn't tell her the truth no matter how much he wanted to, “I just want my son back. But it's like he's completely shut me out, and... ” he shook his head. _And he likes me? And I kind of like him back? Now he's in the infirmary fighting for his life again while I've been jacking off fantasizing about fucking him over the dining table._

    Michonne sighed, “I know there's more to that story. I'm not going to press it, but I do want to give you a bit of advice.”

    Rick looked at her.  
  
   “Before Dianna died, she told me to find out what I wanted and to go after it. Rick, all I want is for this group to work. I want _Alexandria_ to work. I want us all to be able to pull together and make the world better than it is. Better than it _was_.”

   Rick nodded, “I want that too. For us. For Judith and... Carl.”

   “Whatever happened between you two, just... make him talk to you, Rick. It's important to keep that relationship strong. Especially when you're all he's got left. Whatever it was, you can't let it get between you and destroy that. But you also have to take care of yourself first so you can be there to take care of him and Judith.” __  
  
   Rick nodded. Everything Michonne was saying was true. Carl was his whole world. They couldn't let this one obstacle destroy that bond, the love they had. Inappropriate feelings or not, they would find a way past it. They had to.  
  
   “Rick...” Michonne's voice cut through his thoughts. She had tensed up, eyeing something far behind him.

   He spun around and felt every alarm in his mind and body all scream at once. Two trucks were speeding down the road, right toward them.  
  


 


	12. Decision

   Michonne and Rick scrambled into their car, slamming on the gas and speeding away from the scene as fast as they possibly could. It wasn't quick enough.

   “Who are these guys?” Michonne asked.

   “Probably more of Negan's men.”

   “We have to lead them away from Alexandria.” Michonne said, turned around in the passenger seat, eyeing the trucks chasing them.  
  
   “We just have to lose them.”  
   
   She looked at him, “Do you think we can?”

   He shot her a look that said everything; _Probably not, but we have to try anyways._ He slammed on the gas again, but the car had already reached its limit, and the trucks were inching closer and closer with every second that ticked by. Time was running out.

   “Rick!”

   He spared a quick glance in the rear-view mirror to catch glimpse of a man leaning out of the passenger window of one of the trucks, a shotgun in his hands. _Shit!_

   “Get down!” Rick shouted, just as the back window exploded, glass shards raining down on them.  
  
   More shots followed, one after the other. One of the bullets hit the back tire with a loud POP, and then everything went to shit. Rick completely lost control of the car as it spun and tumbled, flipping over into the ditch. As they rolled, Rick discovered the true meaning of watching your life flash before your eyes. Yet it wasn't his own life he saw, but Carl's instead.

   He saw Carl as a tiny newborn baby curled up in his arms as he was filled with unimaginable love and pride looking over his first son. Rick could still remember Carl's first laugh, his first words, even his first step. The first day of kindergarten. Then there was Carl's face lighting up when Rick climbed out of that truck at the campsite, reuniting with his family for the first time since the coma. All the days of farming at the prison together, the endless nights spent roaming and scavenging together after the prison's fall. Then the night Carl lost his eye, the terror Rick felt still so fresh.

   Then the final image; Carl laying back there in that hospital bed in Alexandria, unconscious to the fever of the infection. Waiting for Rick to come home and save his life.  
After a few more rolls, the car finally came to a stop.  


   “Michonne!” Rick whispered, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head.  
  
   “I'm okay.” She said, panting.

   Rick heaved a sigh of relief, “Come on.”  
  
   They immediately set to work. Despite their bodies bloody and aching, they fumbled with the door handles, crawling out as fast as they could.

   “This way.” Rick whispered, pulling Michonne into the woods.

   They didn't get very far before stopping and kneeling behind some particularly thick brush. From their hideout they watched as the two trucks slowed and pulled over next to their destroyed car. Several men piled out, all armed with rifles and shotguns pointed directly at the car. One man, seemingly the leader, wore a leather jacket and carried a bat with him wrapped in barb wire. Rick eyed him, wondering if he might be Negan.  
  
   “Simon. Bring 'em out. Let's see what pricks are inside.”

   With no hesitation, Simon stepped forward, knelt down and peered inside. A moment later, Simon spun around, “Nobody in there. They got out.”

   The man in charge sighed heavily, then shouted, “Find them. They gotta be here fucking somewhere, people don't just fucking vanish into thin air.”  
  
   The rest of the men all spread out, guns high as they headed into the woods in every direction. Rick watched them, knife in hand, but thankfully none came near their hideout. Not yet. They still had some time.  
  
   “Something in here, Sir!” Someone shouted, popping open the trunk. Rick's jaw clenched as the man pulled out the two backpacks from the trunk. He unzipped them and glanced inside, “There's medicine! Lots of it!”

   The leader sauntered over, “Would you look at that! They actually are good for somethin'! You and Leo take this back home. We'll catch up once we've had a chance to _meet_ the new neighbors.”

   “Yes sir!”  
  
   The pair took the backpacks, tossing them into the back of one of their trucks. Then they were off, heading back in the same direction they'd come from. _Dammit._ _We gotta get that medicine back._  
     
   The man in charge walked off into the woods, thankfully in the opposite direction of Rick and Michonne, mumbling, “I gotta take a piss.”  
  
_Here's our chance._  
  
   Rick glanced at Michonne, who nodded. They crept forward through the bushes slowly, silently. One of their assailants was closing in dangerously close to them, scanning the brush and grass through the scope of his gun.

   With careful planning and timing, Rick managed to sneak around him and stab him from behind, using his free hand to cover the man's mouth. Rick continued to stab until the man went limp and collapsed on the ground. Rick stole the man's gun and ran with Michonne to the last truck sitting on the road.

   “Hey!” Someone shouted.

   Heart pounding, Rick turned and opened fire in the direction of the voice. Two men raced back into the woods, using the trees as cover as they returned fire. Michonne and Rick quickly piled into the truck and sped away, leaving their assailants in the dust far behind them.

  
   As they sped down the road, the first truck soon came into view. The men inside had no idea the truck gaining on them held anyone other than their own allies, which they used to their advantage. Rick was able to catch up to them without them suspecting a thing.

   They had only a few precious seconds to pull this off. Michonne took the gun, pointing it out the passenger window, waiting for just the right moment. They inched forward, until finally they were right beside their attackers.

   The driver had only a split second to look at them, eyes growing wide as he pieced together what was happening, just as Michonne shot him in the head.

   The truck promptly swerved and crashed straight into a tree off the side of the road.

   Rick slowed down and parked beside it.  
  
   Cautiously, Michonne and Rick neared the crashed truck, weapons raised just in case. The passenger door suddenly flew open, and gunfire erupted on them. Rick didn't quite jump aside in time, one bullet lodging into his shoulder. He swallowed the pain and shot back. A moment later, all was silent again, the last of their attackers finally dead.

   Now that the fight was over, and the adrenaline gone, the stabbing pain came full-force. Rick clutched his shoulder, the blood quickly seeping through his shirt, down his arm.

   “Hold on,” Michonne said, ripping the sleeve from the dead man's shirt, and wrapping it tightly around Rick's wound, “There. Once we get to Alexandria, Denise will fix it up.”  
  
   Rick groaned, “Let's get the medicine. That's more important right now.”

   She nodded, climbing into the crashed truck. She found the bags in the back, grabbing them and pulling them out. Luckily none of the antibiotics had been taken from them. Rick held out his good arm to take one of the bags, but Michonne refused, “I got it. I'll drive too.”

   Rick considered arguing, but decided against it. She'd be more focused anyways. He needed to conserve his strength in case they had another confrontation. So he slipped into the passenger seat while Michonne drove.

   They took the long, roundabout way home and luckily didn't encounter any more of those men. Rick's mind inevitably wandered as the drive went on. What if they weren't quick enough? What if those men had delayed them just long enough for Carl to succumb to the infection before their return?

_What if I never get to tell Carl how much I love him?_

   Rick sighed, watching the trees pass by one after the other. _This is stupid. My son's been fighting for his life, and I let our relationship be broken by some stupid insecurities. Who cares about the opinions of others? The law? What law is there now? Carl means everything to me, and I love him. More than a son._

_Once I get back, things are going to be different. A lot different._

 

 


	13. The Point of No Return

    Carl's head pounded, his mind feeling thick like mud. It took a while for the details of his surroundings to register and for him to realize where he was; no longer in the infirmary but back in that cold, empty room where Negan had kept him locked up.   
  
   Carl panicked, racking his brain for answers, trying to figure out how and when he'd gotten here. Had Alexandria been attacked? Had he been captured in his sleep, or had he been captured during a run again? The last thing he remembered was sitting in the infirmary, Denise laying a cold, wet washcloth on his head to try and kill his fever. After that? Nothing.  
  
   The door to the room slowly creaked open, the smell of leather and cheap cologne hitting Carl full force, sending a shiver straight down his spine. He recognized that smell. It was burned into his brain alongside that sadistic grin he despised so damn much.

   Negan whistled as he casually sauntered into the room. He gave Carl a once-over and grinned before heading over to the terrified boy. Every step was slow and calculated, the tension stretching with every second as Carl wondered what the psycho had planned. As Negan approached, he knelt down and leaned in close, whispering in Carl's ear, “Good to see _you_ again.”

   Carl's throat tightened so much he couldn't breathe. Even his hands and feet were frozen to the spot, as if he were paralyzed in his own fear. _Why can't I move?_ He tried to scream, scream for help, scream for his father, but no sound came out. Nobody ever came to rescue him this time, not even Rick.

   “Almost shit myself when your dad showed up at my gate, begging me to take you,” Negan smirked, shaking his head, “Can't really blame him. Who'd want you with the way you look... the things you think about doing with your own _father_. You are one fucked up kid.”  
  
   Carl's heart sank into his stomach. Had Rick really given him over? Was he really that much of a disappointment? What he'd done was messed up, but... how had Negan even known?

   The bandages were suddenly ripped away from Carl's face, Negan's laugh ringing in his ears as a knife was shoved inside the empty socket. Overwhelming pain shot through his head before spreading all throughout the rest of his body, but Carl could do nothing. He wasn't still frozen in place, subject to Negan's every whim, knowing nobody would be saving him anymore.  
  
     
     
   Carl woke with a start, heart beating a hundred miles an hour. For the first time in his life, he was actually relieved at the sight of the gray ceiling of the infirmary above him. He kept his gaze fixed on it as he took several deep breaths to calm himself down. _It was just a dream... Negan's not here... I'm safe and I'm home._  
  
   As his heart rate returned to normal, and his mind calmed down, Carl noticed he didn't feel as hot or nauseous as he had the day before. He glanced over, and sighed in relief when he saw the bottles of antibiotics on the bedside table. _Dad made it back._  
  
   When he turned to his right, he noticed Rick for the first time, sitting in the chair at his bedside. This was a scene that seemed to keep repeating itself over and over since the night he'd lost his eye. Seeing Rick sitting there yet again, watching him with concern plain across his face, the man's arm bandaged up from God-knows-what happened while he was out finding Carl's antibiotics, made Carl feel like complete shit.

  Yet Rick looked at him not with an ounce of disgust or anger but pure love and concern, just as he always had. _How could I actually believe he'd hand me over to that monster?_

  “Dad.” Carl said. His voice was hoarse.

  Rick leaned forward, taking the boy's hand into his, “Why didn't you tell me, Carl...”

   The feel of his father's hands made Carl's chest tighten. He'd missed the man so much. Why had he thrown this away? Why hadn't he just swallowed his pride and fixed this earlier? Carl couldn't stop himself from tearing up, “I though you'd hate me after...”

   “I could never hate you Carl.” Rick couldn't even fathom hating the boy. He looked over the boy, his face, his skin. Carl didn't feel so feverish anymore, and the color had finally returned to his face. Rick was so relieved by that; he hadn't been too late. Carl would be fine. He'd heal and they would be family again.

   How could Carl possibly think he hated him? Had he really been that cruel and cold towards the boy? Rick felt terrible. Guilty. All he wanted was to take all of Carl's pain away and make sure the boy knew he was loved. His gaze fell towards the boy's lips. He could still remember the taste from Carl kissing him that day in the cell.

   Could he really cross that invisible line between morality and the one thing they both wanted most? That forbidden desire that would either destroy their bond completely or make it stronger than ever?   
  
   “I'm sorry Dad. I'm sorry for what I did. I'll never-”

   Rick leaned forward and cut the boy off with a tentative kiss on the lips before he could lose the courage he'd spent the last few days building. It wasn't forced or pushed, just loving and gentle. Enough to make Carl pause before closing his eye, lifting a hand to run his fingers through his father's hair and pull him closer.

   Every one of Rick's senses were on fire, his mind overwhelmed with two different urges warring against each other. One side of him begged him to deepen the kiss and indulge his darkest fantasies, and the other screamed to protect Carl and push him away.  
  
   Carl had never kissed anyone before, and found himself without any idea what to do. So, as he did with everything else in life, he followed his father's lead, opening his mouth slightly when Rick's tongue begged entrance. The man tasted so sweet, and Carl was absolutely loving the light tickle of Rick's beard against his skin. It was wrong, but the whole thing felt like the most natural thing in the world to him.  
  
   After a few more moments of bliss, it was Rick who eventually pulled away, leaving Carl breathing hard, and quite confused. Rick looked for any sign of disgust on the boy's face, but found none. Only a light blush to his cheek and a gleam in his eye.

   “What was that for?”

  “I'm sorry, Carl. I don't want you to ever feel like I hate you. I could never.”  
  
  “But you were right... it's... it's _wrong_.”  
  
   Rick fidgeted awkwardly, avoiding Carl's gaze. It was now or never to tell Carl the truth, as wrong as it might be, “Truth is... I feel the same way. You're all I have left, and I love you. I can't... I can't stop thinking of you since that day in the cell. I can't stand to lose you. So, if this is still what you want, then... we'll try it.”  
  
   To seal his decision, Rick leaned forward and planted one more light kiss to Carl's lips, which Carl eagerly returned. There was no coming back from this.  
  


 


End file.
